Page 45 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Gabriel leaned against the wattle and daub wall of the ancient tithe barn, cradling his tankard of Mrs Dixon’s beer.

The jaunty tune of a fiddle and drum, overlaid with rousing voices and laughter, rang through the building. The light from the lanterns strung between the rafters provided a soft glow upon the merry party.

At the centre of the gathering, dancers hopped, skipped and spun their partners. Those who stood at the edges clapped to the beat. The fiddler played a long chord, signalling the end of the dance. Couples changed partners and reformed the set.

Across the barn, yet another man stopped to talk to Blythe.

His fingers tightened around his tankard. The deep-blue silk of her gown shimmered, and the highlights in the soft blonde ringlets at her temples gleamed in the glow of the lanterns.

His reckless heart did not care that she had concealed the conception of their child—that she had trusted her mother’s judgment more than she had trusted in them. Would a child have been ideal when he was a medical student with barely a penny to his name? No, but he would have found a way. His family would have supported them regardless of what her mother’s waspish tongue had insinuated. The pain in his heart flared. Their child had existed but for a short time, yet he had had no notion of it.

It was his fault, not Blythe’s. How could he have been so reckless? Worse, he had left her to deal with the consequences of his carelessness alone.

Mother Dixon’s beer burned on the way down his gullet. He was to blame.

John approached with a frown. “Is something wrong with Mam’s beer?”

“Did you know?”

The furrows in John’s brow deepened. “Did I know what?”

“Did you know why Blythe jilted me?” Gabriel demanded through gritted teeth.

John looked over his shoulder before he grabbed Gabriel’s arm and led him to an empty corner of the barn. “Why are you asking now?”

“Just answer the question!” he demanded.

“I never understood why she jilted you when it was clear that she⁠—”

Gabriel pushed John into the wall, and his friend’s eyes widened. “Did she tell you why?”

John shook his head. “Only that she preferred Simmonds, and when I questioned her decision, Mam and Blythe told me to mind my own business.”

Gabriel’s fist balled into John’s cravat. “And you did not think to delve deeper.”

“You know my Mam and Blythe.” John held his hands wide. “I swear I knew no other reason, although I always suspected there was more to it.”

Gabriel unfurled his fist. John did not deserve his ire.

“What do I not know?”

Ignoring John, Gabriel glanced across the barn.

Blythe slipped out of the tall doorway again. Where was she off to? Who was she meeting?

“I apologise.” He shoved his tankard into John’s hand and followed her out. “Blythe!”

She ignored him.

He crossed the yard and grabbed her arm. “There are matters we must discuss.”

She shrugged off his hand. “Now is not the time. Return to the supper and enjoy the evening.”

“I am not enjoying it, and neither are you.”

“I have other things on my mind. Now, if you will excuse me.” She headed for the house.

“As do I, and we should discuss it.”